


no burden too heavy (when you share the load)

by mikkal



Series: sleeping at last (oct '19) [11]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Brotherhood: Final Fantasy XV, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-07 21:28:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21224486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikkal/pseuds/mikkal
Summary: Noctis has a bit of a stress-induced breakdown.Whumptober Day 20: Trembling





	no burden too heavy (when you share the load)

It takes an embarrassingly long time for anyone to realize something’s wrong.

Prompto lays sprawled on the couch, nails tapping against his game controller as he stares at the pause screen of the game he and Noctis are tag teaming, as he listens to Gladio and Ignis debate over this and that in the kitchen. Something smells good, sizzling over the stove and baking in the oven, and Ignis is far too graceful twisting around Gladio deliberately trying to get in his way—no one should look that good in a garish pink apron with a red kiss plastered over the chest. Not like that.

He watches the time counter of the game tick up from seconds to minutes, a frown wrenching his mouth down, his tapping speeding up. Noctis hadn’t said where he was going, but Prompto assumed the bathroom. Only, it’s been five minutes now and this is a new Assassin’s Creed game, bathroom breaks take seconds, a minute at the most. Not this.

Then, something shatters.

Everyone freezes. Prompto shoots up from his slouch, controller clattering to the carpet with a soft thud. Nothing makes a sound afterwards, not even what should be muffled swearing that normally comes from Noctis being clumsy. Ignis clicks off the stove and the oven both as Gladio makes his way to the closed bathroom door. Prompto migrates to the couch arm, half over it and trying to hard not to leap up right then and there.

“Noct?” Gladio calls, rapping a knuckle on the door.

No answer.

Gladio frowns and glances back at Ignis. “Kid, you okay in there? You don’t answer, I’m coming in.”

This time there’s a very clear “_Shit_,” from behind the door and a muffled thump. “D-Don’t. It’s fine. Give me a minute.”

Prompto up and over the couch now, hovering behind Ignis who is behind Gladio. He presses his knuckles against his cheeks, something unsettled sitting heavy in his gut. That wasn’t the Noctis who’d just been playing games with him. Yeah, sure, the Noctis playing games had been a little off, a little distant, but he knows the workload from Noctis’ university classes are _ridiculous_ for being so close to the winter holidays and his responsibilities at the Citadel are piling up. That’s why they’re having this night, to give them all a break.

But this Noctis? With the hesitant words and the thin voice so soft it sounds almost pained? Something’s not right.

Gladio jiggles the knob, only to find it locked. He scowls. “Noctis, open the door.”

“…No_,_” is the slow reply. Unsure. Wobbly, actually. “I said give me a minute.”

Ignis neatly steps around the Shield. “Noct,” he says carefully, “we just want to check to see if you’re alright. Open the door, please.”

Something that sounds suspiciously like a sniffle makes it through the wood before there’s a _click_ of the lick disengaging. Stubborn to a fault, Noctis is, except when faced with his friend’s stark concern for him. It doesn’t take much to get through then.

Ignis swings the door open, revealing Noctis on his knees and sweeping up a broken drinking glass with his bare hands. Already there’s thin lines of red on his fingers and palms, little droplets of blood splatter the tile floor. His shoulder tremble, his chin wobbles, and he refuses to look at them, his sweeping motions growing frantic.

“It’s fine,” he chokes out. A large piece gouges his thumb and he fumbles, shoulders creeping to his ears, back curling. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Oh, Noct.” Ignis kneels and takes his wrists, tugging them away from the mess. Noctis’ hands tremble so hard that even when he makes a fist to steady them, they keep going. He tries to pull away, but Ignis holds firm. “No, no. Come, let’s get you up.”

Noctis’ legs shake as he guided to the closed toilet. His face still ducked away from them. He can’t seem to stop shaking at all and he chokes on a sob as he tries to escape Ignis once again. This time, the chamberlain lets him. Noctis wraps his arms around his middle in the mockery of a hug, bowing over his knees.

“Shit,” he whispers. “_Fuck_.”

Prompto’s already sweeping up the mess with an actual dustpan and brush, so Ignis moves to the rim of the bathtub as Gladio squeezes in with a med kit in hand. They’re quiet except for Noctis’ shaky breathes while Gladio inspects his hands and bandages the cuts.

“No glass,” Gladio murmurs. He handles Noctis gently, large hands holding Noctis’ slim ones with a delicateness most people think him incapable of. “These should heal up in no time.”

He folds his hands over Noctis’ when he’s done, keeping them still and steady. Noctis presses his forehead against them. Ignis slides a hand over the back of his neck, thumb sweeping up into his hairline as he squeezes tenderly.

Noctis breathes out and it wavers. Prompto almost sits on the seam where carpet meets tile, but, instead, shuffles in to press a shoulder against his knee, giving his own support.

“I thought I had it,” Noctis whispers angrily. A tear splashes down on Gladio’s hand and slides off his knuckles. The Shield jostles him just a bit to free a hand, cupping his face and brushing away another tear. The concern in his expression is almost breaking, but Noctis feels broken enough already so it doesn’t matter. More tears fall. “_Shit_,” he sobs out. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry!” Prompto protests.

Ignis tightens his grip. “Indeed,” he says, voice thick. He coughs to clear it. “There’s _nothing_ to be sorry for.”

“I had it.”

Gladio slides his hand to Noctis’ chin, lifting it slowly—giving him a chance to pull away, but he doesn’t—and meets him eye to eye. Those pretty blues are drowning in tears, shadows carve deep under them, and his face is pale, washed out. He sees shame and guilt and there’s nothing he wants more than to wrap Noctis up real tight and let him _relax_ for a day or two.

“It’s okay not to,” Gladio says. Noctis’ breathing hitches. He drags a thumb along his jawline and Noctis leans into the touch. “You don’t have to carry your burdens alone. That’s what we’re here for. To help.”

Noctis nods as he tips forward into Gladio chest. The bigger man wraps his arms around his shoulders, holding him tight. Prompto tucks an arm between them and slides an arm around Noctis’ back, pressing his cheek to his friend’s shoulder. Ignis threads fingers through unruly black hair and moves to the toilet so he can drape over Noctis protectively.

They take a moment, here with just the four of them, to just breathe.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr @mikkalia15  
twitter @mik_kal15  
How do I put this? I read somewhere that blanket permissions for fanworks based off stories is nice to see in the notes, because then it gets rid of the awkward "am I allowed to do this?" and "let me ask the writer" sort of thing. Like, this isn't an expectation. I don't expect anything. But:
> 
> I give permission for any and all fanworks based off my stories.
> 
> And I guess I'll put that on my stories from now on. Like I said, I don't expect anything, but...moving on with the times, I guess? I don't know. This whole note seems stupid now....
> 
> I hope you liked the story : D


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